His hands gripped the table,
while his body shook with sobs, though his eyes gave forth no tears.
It was an inward convulsion, which gave his face the look of unrelieved
tragedy and suffering--Laocoon struggling with the serpents of sorrow
and hatred which were strangling him.

"Dead an' gone," he repeated, as he swayed to and fro, and the table
quivered in his grasp. Presently, however, as though arrested by a
thought, he peered out of the doorway towards Juniper Bend. "That hawk
seen him--it seen him. He's comin', I know it, an' I'll git him--plumb."
He had the mystery and imagination of the mountain-dweller.

The rifle lay against the wall behind him, and he turned and touched
it almost caressingly. "I ain't let go like this since he was killed,
Sinnet. It don't do. I got to keep myself stiddy to do the trick when
the minute comes. At first I usen't to sleep at nights, thinkin' of
Clint, an' missin' him, an' I got shaky and no good. So I put a cinch
on myself, an' got to sleepin' again--from the full dusk to dawn, for
Greevy wouldn't take the trail at night. I've kept stiddy." He held out
his hand as though to show that it was firm and steady, but it trembled
with the emotion which had conquered him. He saw it, and shook his head
angrily.

"It was seein' you, Sinnet. It burst me. I ain't seen no one to speak to
in a month, an' with you sittin' there, it was like Clint an' me cuttin'
and comin' again off the loaf an' the knuckle-bone of ven'son."

Sinnet ran a long finger slowly across his lips, and seemed meditating
what he should say to the mountaineer. At length he spoke, looking into
Buckmaster's face. "What was the story Ricketts told you? What did your
boy tell Ricketts? I've heard, too, about it, and that's why I asked
you if you had proofs that Greevy killed Clint. Of course, Clint should
know, and if he told Ricketts, that's pretty straight; but I'd like
to know if what I heard tallies with what Ricketts heard from Clint.
P'r'aps it'd ease your mind a bit to tell it. I'll watch the Bend--don't
you trouble about that. You can't do these two things at one time. I'll
watch for Greevy; you give me Clint's story to Ricketts. I guess you
know I'm feelin' for you, an' if I was in your place I'd shoot the man
that killed Clint, if it took ten years. I'd have his heart's blood--all
of it. Whether Greevy was in the right or in the wrong, I'd have
him--plumb."

Buckmaster was moved. He gave a fierce exclamation and